Chapter 11
Most brides know their husbands before they marry them.
Hell, most brides aren’t forced into saying I do.
But now that we’ve tied the knot, I want to know more about Emilio.
About his home. His history.
Oh, and the easiest way to murder him without him killing me first.
Every time I think of Aleksy’s murder plot, I want to jump out the window.
When Maggie returned from the store, I tried picking her brain.
All I got from her is that she loves Emilio, she’s known him since he was three, and she was also in the room when Emilio’s mother, Evalina, gave birth to his sister.
Maggie also said she once lived here in a private wing but moved out after Emilio’s sister’s and mother’s deaths.
When I asked her if she planned to move back into that wing, she shook her head in sadness and said, “This will never be my home again.”
Maggie offered to make dinner before she left, but I told her I was fine. She waved goodbye and said she’d be back in the morning.
Now it’s just me, all alone in this creepy home.
I grab another bottle of water, walk upstairs, and sit on my new bed. Dragging out my MacBook, I decide to research Emilio’s family myself.
Mr. Google always has the answers I’m looking for.
The search produces article after article, most of them about the car accident that took his mom’s and sister’s lives. According to sources, his mom drove straight into Lake George like she had a death wish.
They claimed it was suicide, but not everyone believes that. There are tons of comments blaming Emilio’s father, Nuncio, for their deaths and then setting it up to look like a suicide. After days of searching the lake, they only found one body and eventually stopped looking at Nuncio’s request.
No one was charged with any crimes.
I shudder, glancing around the bedroom.
Aurora’s bedroom.
Goose bumps cover my arms, as if her ghost just whipped past me.
Is that why Emilio hates this place?
Does he believe his father is responsible for their deaths?
Did Emilio help him?
Even though I know her phone is gone, I text Dasha.
Me: I miss you.
I send it before typing another.
Me: At least Emilio didn’t set up a honeymoon for us, in case you were curious.
I text my next message with a long sigh.
Me: Love you.
I drop my phone to the side, and to stop my mind from racing, I binge-watch old American Horror Story episodes before falling asleep.
I’m woken up by screaming downstairs.
Cursing.
Banging.
“Liliya!”
My heart pounds as loud footsteps thunder up the stairs, closer and closer.
Get out of bed!
Hide!
I stretch across the bed, reaching for my phone, when the door flies open. The room is dim, and the only light source is the show playing on my MacBook. I curse, dropping my phone, as Emilio moves into my room.
“Get up,” he snaps. “I’ve found a way for you to be useful.”
Drawing back, I place my hand against my chest. “Um, excuse me, Mr. Rude.”
Reaching down, he closes his hand around my wrist and yanks me to my feet.
I twist, attempting to break free, but he’s too strong. “Let me go.”
He drags me into the hallway, downstairs, and straight to the dining room. The screaming and cursing grow louder.
I gasp when I see Leo sprawled across the table while Julian and Damien stand on each side of him. Inching closer, I notice blood soaking through his white shirt.
“You son of a bitch,” Leo hisses through his teeth when Julian raises his shirt and presses a towel to his bloody wound.
Emilio finally releases me. “He needs medical attention.”
“No shit,” I grumble, resulting in a glare from him.
Julian turns around. “He was stabbed.”
I move toward Leo, squeezing between Julian and a chair to get a better look. The wound is deep, and he’s losing a lot of blood.
“Stitch him up,” Emilio demands, coming up behind me.
I shake my head. “You need to take him to the hospital.”
Emilio scoffs, crowding against me closer. “You’re the hospital, Liliya. You said you’re a nurse. Tend to his fucking wound.” He pushes me forward, causing my stomach to ram into the table.
Technically, I was a nurse, but I’m no longer employed.
I want to help Leo, but the way Emilio is speaking to me pisses me off.
I whip around, pushing his chest, and he takes a step back.
“You want me to help him?” I cross my arms and point at him. “Then you need to speak to me with respect.”
Swear to God, I hear Julian laugh.
Emilio leans back on his heels. “Or what?”
I tilt my head sideways and carefully enunciate each word as I say, “Or he bleeds out.”
Everyone in the room freezes.
They go quiet.
Even Leo has stopped his panting and yelling.
Seconds later, he groans and attempts to raise himself to his elbows.
All their attention is on me.
The woman who told a group of murderous mobsters no.
If you bring me into a heartless world, expect me to lose some of mine, too, assholes.
I don’t say that aloud, obviously.
I’m already digging a few inches of my grave by back-talking Emilio in front of these other men.
“You won’t let him bleed out.” Emilio smirks, so sure of himself. “You’re too nice for that.”
I match his smirk, mine a bit more dramatic. “Care to test me on that?”
“Emilio, what the fuck?” Leo screams behind me. “Can you two save your marital issues for later and stitch me the fuck up?”
I glance over my shoulder, and Leo curses as Damien applies more pressure to his wound.
“Be nice to your wife so she’ll fix the fucking hole in my side!” Leo screams.
My eyes return to Emilio’s. He taps his foot, checking his watch, and then shakes his head in annoyance.
He waits for me to cave.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
I’m caught off guard when he grips my shoulders, turns me to face Leo, and shoves me toward him. I hiccup at the feel of his heavy chest against my back again and inhale the scent of his cologne.
Reaching around me, Emilio smacks Leo’s side—right on his wound.
“You fucking asshole,” Leo screams.
“You say one more negative thing about my marriage, and I’ll add another stab wound,” Emilio warns him.
Leo does his best to flip off Emilio in response.
“Stitch him the fuck up, Liliya,” Emilio hisses in my ear.
“Apologize first.” I stare straight ahead, refusing to look back at him.
“What the fuck?!” Leo screams in agony. “I’m dying over here, in case anyone forgot!”
Emilio grabs a fistful of my hair. “Fuck off with that attitude and help him.”
I shake my head, trying my best to ignore the slight sting of pain when he pulls on my strands. “Apologize, or he bleeds out.”
“I’ll pay for the fucking counseling!” Leo yells. “Isn’t this against some HIPAA bullshit? I thought you nurses had a duty to help!”
“HIPAA is privacy, idiot,” Julian comments.
Leo tries to pull himself up. “Hand me the fucking first-aid kit then.” He crouches in pain, sweat dripping down his forehead as the bleeding worsens. “I’ll stitch myself up.”
“You’re going to let a man die?” Emilio challenges. “His blood will be on your hands.”
I shake my head. “No, it’ll be on yours. He’s not my man. Not my friend.”
“Well, that’s pretty fucking rude,” Leo grunts as Damien opens the first-aid kit. “I’m taking back my wedding gift. No fucking panini maker for you.”
“You think I care about blood on my hands?” Emilio asks coldly.
No, I don’t think he does.
But unfortunately for me, I do have a heart.
Unlike him, I have compassion. Apology or no apology, I won’t watch Leo suffer without trying to help.
“Fine.” I swat at his hand on my hair.
He releases me, stepping back.
I turn to stab my finger in his face. “But this isn’t for you.”
“Obviously. I’m not the one stabbed,” he comments as I roll up my pajama sleeves.
Damien steps out of my way, giving me the space I need.
“First-aid kit,” I say, waving my fingers forward.
Damien drops it beside me.
Everyone watches as I cut Leo’s shirt to get a better view of the wound and collect the supplies I need. I can feel Emilio’s eyes on me with every move I make.
A wave of guilt washes over me at the realization of how much blood Leo has lost. I shouldn’t have spent time arguing with Emilio.
I’m surprised the Lombardis don’t have an on-call doctor or nurse. I was Uncle Yaroslav’s. It’s the only reason he paid for my nursing school. If one of his men was injured, it was my job to tend to them.
I snap on a pair of latex gloves and get to work.
“Motherfucker!” Leo hisses as I disinfect his wound. “Some warning would’ve been nice.”
“The peroxide was in her hand,” Emilio states with irritation. “Be respectful and open your fucking eyes.”
Ah, so he’s the only one allowed to act like an asshole to me.
“My apologies, Liliya,” Leo says, relaxing his shoulders as I fan my hand over his wound, attempting to dry it.
When it’s time to stitch him up, the men cater to my every request without argument. Emilio stands close behind me as I thread the needle through Leo’s skin. With each pass of the needle, the bleeding slows down.
“All right,” I say when I’m finished. “You need to make sure you keep this clean, okay?”
Leo nods.
Julian and Damien help Leo off the table.
“Thanks, Liliya,” Leo says before winking. “Keep the panini maker. I was only bullshitting.”
I offer him a gentle smile. “You’re welcome.”
He gives me a salute, and the other two men thank me before assisting Leo out the front door. As soon as they’re gone, I whip around to glare at Emilio.
I inch closer, putting my finger in his face the same way I did earlier. “Let me make this clear, mister. If you want a favor from me, acting like a jerk isn’t how you get it. Be nice for once in your mean-face life.”
He narrows his dark eyes at me. “I’m never nice, guaio.”
“I’m not trouble. I’m your wife.”
He inches closer, clasping my chin in his hand. “If you weren’t trouble, wife, then you wouldn’t be here.”
“Contracted wife,” I huff out. “Not by choice.”
“In case you forgot, you weren’t my first choice either.”
I attempt to jerk out of his hold for that comment, but he tightens it. He sweeps his cold, callous thumb over my cheek, and my teeth chatter.
“You’re easily replaceable, just like your sister.” He taps my cheek before pulling away. “Who knows what Aleksy would do with you after? No man wants a disposed-of wife.”